


To Get By

by Kieranwritesfic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot, Tatooine (Star Wars), Tatooine Slave Culture, Tatooine sucks you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22359808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kieranwritesfic/pseuds/Kieranwritesfic
Summary: You're just some Mos Eisley girl working at Jabba's Palace, cleaning up after the debauched gangster and his guests, trying to keep your head above the sand and out of the rancor pit. Until, that is, the notoriously deadly bounty hunter notices you...
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader
Comments: 44
Kudos: 427
Collections: Boba Fett





	1. Chapter 1

You were a housekeeper. Nothing more. Keep your head down, do your job quickly, and you might make it another day without being noticed by any of the dangerous, demented filth that wandered through the halls of Jabba’s dim palace. 

The pay was decent. Jabba didn’t want anyone to say he was stingy, and he certainly didn’t want it getting out that he didn’t take care of his people. But there was no reward. The place always smelled of smoke, no matter how hard you tried to air it out or how much air freshener you sprayed.

In the wee hours of the morning, once everyone had finally gone to bed, when you scrambled into the throne room to try to make SOME progress against the bloodstains and the alcohol spills, you saw him. 

The Mandalorian bounty hunter happened to be walking by when he saw you hurriedly stacking chairs onto tables, heralded by the sound of the spurs on his boots. He’d slung his gun over his shoulder. You froze for a second, your heart almost beating out of your chest. You’d seen the messes this man--you had heard he was a man, a human man, from some of the working girls who kept themselves busy here--had caused, the spilled blood and piss and whatever other substances some beings leaked when he threatened them. 

There was a second where he just stared at you. 

“Are you going to shoot me, or can I just get back to work?” you asked. Sure, you were terrified, but you didn’t survive as a child in Mos Eisley by being a coward. 

He turned his helmet away, and walked off.

The next time you saw Boba Fett, you’d been assigned a night shift. You bloody hated night shift with all the force in your body, but you knew better than to protest. Better to grin and bear it than argue and risk either losing your job or your life, which was getting pretty stressful these days. 

Nothing you wore would help you escape notice, you hoped your shitty job was enough to protect you. Still, you dressed with consideration in a well-fitting tunic, a loose sweater to disguise your shape and make you harder to shoot, and boots laced tightly in case you had to sprint for your life. 

He was standing beside the Master, his arms crossed in that way he did to remind everyone that he had muscles. You knew when he saw you--could feel the burn of his eyes through the black visor. And maybe, yeah, you could see the appeal. You weren’t dead. Yet. 

You hurried to mop up somebody’s spilled firewater before they could notice you. Someone threw up. Someone else laughed, and their stray fist knocked a basket of bantha cracklins’ on the floor. Your night was getting long. 

And then one of the girls was brought forward. 

“ _ Oola, ma gooka.” _

You looked up. You looked back down,  _ quickly _ . 

There was a conversation you couldn’t quite hear. The girl was begging for her life, but it wouldn’t matter. Soon enough she’d be rancor meat. You had to pretend you didn’t notice the lathered crowd, hot and bristling with excitement to watch her die. Leaning in, leering. 

You had to go back to your cart for more rags and fresh water to clean up. You were hoping to do so before… well. You did. In the small closet, you took in huge gulps of air that, if not fresh, at least smelled of disinfectant and washing, rather than seat and puke and that smell of rot and stink that came off of Jabba the Hutt. There was an outcry, a scream, you winced. You couldn’t help it. 

_ “Hey.”  _

You looked up, startled. You backed into the cart, everything on it jangling and rolling. You wondered how he’d snuck up on you with the spurs, always ching-ching-chinging down the halls. 

“C-can I help you?” you asked. 

_ “Came to check up on you.” _

You were surprised. The Mandalorian wasn’t exactly known for his caring, gentle demeanor. Up close, you could smell the desert on his armor, the faintly hot smell of blaster smoke and the beskar steel. If he came any closer, would you smell… him? 

WHOA, that was getting a little weird. 

“I’m… I’m fine. Thank you.” 

_ “Don’t care for the entertainment?”  _

“If you mean feeding people to the rancor, then no. I don’t,” you said quietly. You gritted your teeth. How were you supposed to feel? Angry? Sad? You didn’t even know her. Did you have to? 

_ “Why do you work here?”  _

“I’ve got mouths to feed. He pays the best,” you said, gesturing to the throne room. He knew you meant Jabba. 

_ “Kids?”  _ the bounty hunter asked. 

“Brothers and sisters.”

_ “Your folks?”  _

“If you mean my parents, my dad was killed in a Tusken raid a few years back and mom… well, she likes the drink. I kicked her out a few years ago.” 

The helmet nodded. He stepped forward, and you tried very, very hard not to flinch. You had guessed it right, you could smell him, the warmth and musk of a living man. 

_ “You’re normally a day girl, aren’t you?”  _

“I clean the place during the day, yes.”

_ “I don’t often see you around here at night.”  _

“I try not to be around here at night.”

_ “But you’re here now.’ _

“We do what we have to to get by.” 

He raised his hand, and just as you were as tense and coiled as a loth-cat ready to spring… Boba Fett touched you. Gently, softly, he chucked you under the chin, but not like he did the other girls. He started at your throat, skimming his way up your chin, slipping his gloved thumb across your bottom lip, opening your mouth ever so slightly. You could smell the leather, the blaster smoke. He held your chin in his fingers, even after your lip had slipped from them. 

You couldn’t help the hitch in your breath, the soft inhale that tipped the hunter’s helmet to the side. And you got the sense, though you weren’t sure how, that he was smirking at you. For just a second, you were distracted. 

_ “Keep a stiff upper lip, lovey,”  _ he said gently. But under the gentle tone, there was something else. Something heavy, a strain. But he couldn’t have been… well. He had his pick of the girls around here. They all whispered and fluttered their lashes when he walked by, and the ones that’d had him spent weeks preening afterwards. That edge of desire was the product of a dry spell, nothing to do with you, personally. 

Right? 

He walked away, his spurs rattling as he sauntered off into the night. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boba Fett manages to surprise you...

A few weeks had passed since that night. Weeks of you trying and succeeding to not be noticed. You had managed to find a second to dust the guy in carbonite who hung on the wall. Could he feel it? He was alive in there, though how he could be when he was as cold and hard as the stone wall itself was a little bit of a struggle for you to understand. 

You were so ready to quit. 

You were scheduled to get a couple of days off. Jabba was going off-world and it offered the small chance for respite. Your supervisor had barely finished their sentence before you had snatched at the chance,  _ yes, a day to myself.  _

You were planning to go home and work on repairs. There were always bloody repairs to make. Someone had always shot a hole in the stucco of the house or there was a droid with faulty wiring that needed replaced. Your days off were days devoted to cleaning your own house for once, and wrangling your teenage siblings, which was as easy as herding loth-cats. 

You had been about to leave the palace, your bag slung over your shoulder. And then you heard it, echoing through the empty halls.  _ Ching. Ching. Ching.  _

You hadn’t been able to escape the thought of him, the thought of his fingers on your chin, the musky scent of him, the dangerous thrill that ran through your whole body when he looked at you. What would it feel like to be touched… well, anywhere else? And in your deepest, darkest thoughts, you wondered how he’d feel between your legs, without all that armor in the way. Or even with it, really. 

You kept those thoughts to yourself, of course. You weren’t an idiot. You hadn’t seen him much anyway. He’d been off shooting at people or whatever bounty hunters did. But here he was, walking down the halls like the cock of the walk.

_ “Hey, Maid.” _

You stopped. It wasn’t wasn’t exactly the melodious sound of his voice--far from it. It was the word. You turned, put you hand on your hip. You  _ loathed  _ that word. You knew you were a subservient schlep to some oversized garden pest, but to be called a “maid” stole the little bit of dignity you tried to carve out for yourself. 

“How can I help you, Mr. Fett?” you asked. 

He walked up to you. That thrill ran down your spine again.  _ “Just surprised to see you again.Thought you’d have left before I got back.” _

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Why couldn’t you shut your big stupid mouth? You were going to get yourself killed. Fett stepped closer to you, and you tried not to flinch. He raised his hand to your chin again.  _ “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m glad. It’d break my heart to hear that a pretty thing like you got fed to the beast.” _

“I… what?” 

He stepped even closer, the chill coming off his armor. 

_ “I’ll shoot straight with you babygirl,”  _ he said, tucking a stray curl behind your ear.  _ “I want you. You want me. You name the terms. I’ll give you the best night of your life. Square?” _

Your eyebrows disappeared into your hair. “I’m… sorry?” 

Was this really happening?

_ “I’m saying,”  _ he said, leaning in towards the same ear, his fingers still against it.  _ “I can’t get you out of my head, and I’ve tried everything--and I mean every damn thing--in this galaxy to scrub you out, but I can’t. I want to bury myself inside you, fill you up and hear you beg me for more.” _

His voice was a low rumble, and you gasped. You gripped your bag’s strap. Your pussy ached, he was  _ right there _ . Your breath went quick, as did your heartbeat. 

“I… I really--”

And then he did something you weren’t expecting. 

He lifted the helmet. 

Reaching up with his gloved hand, he pressed the release. You heard a little whirring, the mechanics in the helmet coming undone. He lifted it just enough to show his mouth. His square, chiseled jaw was coarse with a few weeks’ worth of scruffy hair. The feeling of his hot breath against your skin had you swaying where you stood, and he leaned to press a kiss against your throat.

You had no idea what overcame you right then. Something about the scratch of him against one of the few tender places on your body, the smell of him so near to you, and the shock of seeing something of him other than leather and metal. Hesitantly, you reached out, touched the edge of one of the pieces of his cuirass, and closed your eyes. 

You wanted to know what it was like under all that. What  _ he  _ was like. His lips were a little chapped, but shapely nonetheless, and  _ wicked  _ in their talent for kissing away your survival instinct. He pulled you a little closer to him, his hand flat against your back.

“I-I don’t know, Boba, I… I’m really not sure it’s a good idea--ah,” you gasped, as he sucked at the skin where your throat met your jaw, his teeth softly grazing, a promise for later. There was a well in your chest that was filling up, about to overflow. You clamped your mouth shut. You didn’t want to be seen acting like this, and definitely not with  _ him.  _

“Why’s that, loth-cat?” he asked. 

You were going to drop your panties. You were 100% going to drop your panties if he called you  _ loth-cat  _ one more time _.  _

You put your hands flat against his chestplate, pressed just a little. Muscle and skin gave resistance, but you could almost imagine what it would feel like to have your hands against his bare chest, and the thought scared and thrilled you all at the same time. You tried to compose yourself. 

“Boba. Stop.” 

His lips were as wet as your throat. The skin was tender from his kisses and you were running out of reasons not to drag him into the closet and let him fuck you into oblivion. You were quiet, pulling your lip between your teeth. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go. 

“Like I said, you set the terms. You tell me when and where. But I want you,” he said as he finished pulling off his helmet. “And I aim to have you.” 

Oh. That set the flutters going wild, from your belly to your pussy. 

You were stunned to see that he was… normal. A normal, rather handsome, human being. Big brown eyes rimmed with dark lashes, set in rich brown skin. Dark curls, a touch of gray at the temples. You had no idea how old he was, maybe mid-thirties by the looks of him. There was something playful and sardonic in his expression. He had the most ridiculously expressive eyebrows you’d ever seen on a human being. He had some scars, it was obvious that the helmet occasionally cut him as much as it protected him. 

“Not here,” you said. 

You watched him swallow the urge to say something sarcastic. It was… kind of endearing, actually. 

“You’re a local girl. You going home?” 

You nodded. 

“Where d'you live?” 

The thought of Boba Fett seeing your childhood room in your childhood house, with your brothers and sisters there, made you want to die. You shook your head. “Not happening. I’d rather fuck you in the broom closet.”

He sucked in a breath. His eyes went wide for just a second, and he said, “Deal.” 

You had not really expected him to say that. But at the same time… well, you were doing something stupid anyway. He steered you to the closet with his mouth on your throat, sucking and biting and practically devouring you, giving you a chance to breathe him in, run your fingers through his curls. 

Curls! On Boba Fett! 

He hit the button for the door with his helmet, and it slid open. He turned you, slapped your ass to nudge you in, and you couldn’t believe it was actually happening, and that you were… having fun, actually. 

Boba set his helmet on the shelf and pulled off his gloves while you stood there, like an idiot, trying to figure out what exactly to do. Obviously, some clothes had to come off. You took off your bag. You knew to do that. This was… very fast. 

You slipped your tunic off, just as a nearly-weaponless Boba was moving towards you, scooping you up and pressing you against a shelf, pinning you with his hips. He was all heat, and you couldn’t breathe without moaning, without making any sound. You did not want to get caught, and the distraction was making it hard to do any of this, hard to focus on him. 

You heard something heavy walk by, probably one of those guards from the entrance of the castle. You bit down on your lips to stop yourself from making noise, even as Boba’s hands dragged down your body and gripped your thigh, grinding his hips between your legs. You froze when the guard stopped by the door. 

There was one weapon still on him. He drew his blaster, shot out the door control panel. The sound was deafening in the small space, and the sparks were a little stressful. Boba grinned a feral grin, and dropped the blaster onto the cleaning cart. The guard left, not wanting to piss of whoever was firing blasters in the broom closet, and you couldn’t help but bite down a smile. 

“Now,” he growled, slipping the tie from your hair and burying his fingers next to your scalp. “Whine for me, loth-cat.” 

The sound that bubbled out of you was not a sound you had ever heard come from your own mouth. He slipped aside the binding on your chest, unfastening it and dropping it to the floor. You held his shoulders, the soft skin under your hands anchoring you to him. When his mouth went to your breast, you watched him suck on the stiff peak of your nipples. His teeth grazed across it, and you gasped, accidentally gripping him tighter, but rather than get mad, which is what you expected, he groaned. The vibration of his voice sent thrills up your spine. 

“You’re wound tighter than a hallikset string,” he teased. 

“Yeah, well, occupational hazard in a place where your employer feeds people to rancors,” you said, nudging his face toward yours. 

He did as you wanted, kissing you with those shapely lips. Something changed right then, and if asked, you couldn’t say what it was, but Boba’s brow furrowed, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, another around your waist, and pulled you against him. Your already erratic heartbeat somehow got faster, and the butterflies in your gut woke up. You held his flak jacket, pulled him as close against you as you could. 

The cold plates of his armor felt exhilarating against your overwarm skin. He made this little sound that wormed its way into your heart, and when you opened your eyes and pulled away a little, he followed, breaking the kiss reluctantly. 

He brushed a hair from your face, and said, “You ever done this with someone who wasn’t some little moisture farmer boy?” 

“No,” you reluctantly admitted. 

He pulled you off the shelf, stood you on your legs. He unbuckled your boots, slipped them off your feet and tossed them aside. Pulling your trousers off, he tossed those aside too. You were completely naked, at work, with the best bounty hunter in the parsec between your legs. This was a weird day for sure, but it got weirder when he slipped his fingers between the lips of your pussy and inside you. He planted kisses along your thigh, his face scratching the skin, leaving you raw. Your head hung back, pleasure like a glow inside you. 

“Good,” he said. “So you won’t forget this.” 

And then his  _ mouth  _ was… oh. His tongue circled your clit, his fingers slipping inside you. You kept your mouth shut, trying to keep yourself quiet. He reached up, grabbed your arm, pulled your face closer to his. For a second, you were scared, until he stamped a hard kiss against your mouth. 

“I said  _ whine for me, _ ” he growled against your mouth. “I want it. I want to hear how good I make you feel.”

That growl pulled the sound out of you that he wanted to hear, and he grinned. “Good girl.” 

His mouth went back to your heat, and you closed your eyes, burying fingers in his curls and let yourself go, gasping and crying out, your sound rising to feverish pleading. He moaned against your pussy, wrapped an arm around your leg, held you still, but you couldn’t help the bucking of your hips. The rising glow inside of you nearly had you screaming, but when it was full up, when the wave of pleasure broke over you, all you could do was gasp, before you moaned from somewhere deep in your belly. 

Boba gripped your thigh harder, his fingers still slipping in and out of you, slower now. You were slick with sweat all over, your lungs more open, your muscles limber and soft. When he kissed you again, his mouth tasted of you, and his fingers twisted in your hair. He was overwhelming, heady and sweet and hard. 

“Can… can you take this off?” you asked, touching his armor. 

He considered. “I… hadn’t thought about it.”

“Oh, then--”

He unfastened the closure of the flax jacket, and you protested. “It’s okay, you don’t--”

Boba pressed a silencing kiss to your mouth as he slid off, and then dropped, the cuirass of his armor. You watched as he unzipped the shirt underneath, so many layers. You weren’t sure--should you look away? Could you if you tried?

His chest and arms were scarred too, more so than his face. When he stepped closer, you pressed a kiss to his collarbone, where a particularly nasty scar ran jagged across the delicate bones. 

“What did that?” you asked. 

“I don’t remember. That was a lot of fights ago.”

You believed him. Fighting was his job, his life. 

He kissed you again, then spun you around and pulled your ass towards him. He pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock. He moved the hair away from your ear, lining himself up with you, and you could hear the hitch in his breath as he teased the both of you by running the head along the slick, sensitive lips of your pussy. You moaned, tossed your head back and rested it on his shoulder, then gasped when he was inside you. 

Boba set a hard, fast pace, crashing into you with his arm around your belly. You leaned against the shelves, your breathing unhinged and heavy, in time with his. He swore, mumbling something under his breath, but you neither could hear him nor cared, all you wanted was more. You weren’t having a problem being loud for him anymore, saying every dirty thing under the suns.

The skin of his chest was hot against your back. His breath was in your ear, his hand on yours. He rested his forehead against your shoulder. 

“Feel s’good, baby,” he groaned, his pace slowing, pulling himself out almost all the way before he slammed back into you as deep as he could go, over and over. 

Sudden bravery compelled you to reach for him, pull his face near yours, and this time you were growling when you said, “I want you to cum in me.”

He grinned, reached one hand between your legs to stroke your clit as he fucked you fast and hard. His pace grew more erratic. His breathing became sharp huffs, the two of you chasing your high together. Your eyes closed, you gasped, the wave crested, and everything went white for a long, blissful second. 

Boba came hard, groaning into your hair, gripping you even tighter against him. He took a long minute to catch his breath, still resting his head against you. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, and a warm glow filled you. 

“Well, feel better?” you asked. 

He snorted, laughing against your shoulder. “Can’t say yet.” 

“Right. Second question, how you gonna get me out of here?” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, SOMEONE had to rescue him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alas there is no porn, only a lot of teasing :(

Jabba was dead. It was unexpected in a way, but at the same time, Tatooine was the kind of place where regimes rose and fell, and you kept yourself busy through it all. It seemed you were out of a job, but really, who cared? You’d hated the job anyway. 

You and the siblings had made the decision a few weeks ago, when you had still been employed, to buy out an dewback boarding operation. You had planned to go out tomorrow to sell whatever of decent value wasn’t bolted down while your sister, a few years younger than yourself but nearly an adult nonetheless, packed up the rest to move. 

Actually, you’d made the decision the day after Boba Fett had locked the two of you in a closet and fucked you nearly senseless. The experience kept coming back to you and making you laugh, and blush, and grow a certain kind of nostalgic, though you hadn’t seen him since. It broke your heart a little, but then again, you’d known it was just a one-time thing. You still thought of his mouth on you, his cock between your legs, the smile that broke right through your self-preservation instinct. The  _ curls… _ okay, maybe you were pretty bummed out. Maybe you even missed him. Which was a bad idea. Not one of your better ones, anyway. 

But when you heard the news about what had happened to Fett, you knew you weren’t going to the bazaar tomorrow. 

“He’s  _ where?”  _

“Yeah, in the sarlacc pit! Poor bastard. Don’t envy him.”

You didn’t either, and you sighed heavily. No one was going to go in there for him. You weren’t totally sure what was required to save him, but you knew you were going to at least check and see if he was alive. See what could be done. 

You found yourself whispering prayers that he was okay as you drove the busted family landspeeder to the pit, with the equally-busted hovercart loaded behind it. It was unlikely that he’d survived. But… well, no one deserved to die of starvation while dissolving to death. Not even Boba. You had a lot of rope, and something like a plan, and it was going to have to be enough. 

Carefully, you dragged a large pipe and set it across the pit. The smell was… well, it was something. The sour stench of death and decay and digestive goo would probably live with you for a while. 

“BOBA!” you called as loudly as you could, forcing volume from your diaphragm. “Hey, FETT!” 

There was a long pause. You were on your hands and knees, and as close as you wanted to get. You weren’t an idiot. The soft, slippery desert sand slipped into the chasm, the teeth stressing you out. 

_ “I’m here!”  _

Oh, thank the lights. 

“How far down are you?” 

_ “Not very! A few meters from the mouth! You got rope?”  _

“Yeah, hang on.” 

The tongue of the beast appeared. It wasn’t planning on letting Boba go without a fight, but a few well-aimed blaster rounds ended that fight before it began. All you saw were lights as you tied one end of the rope to the landspeeder and tossed the other end down to Fett. 

He appeared from the toothy maw, covered in vivid yellow goo. He  _ stank  _ to high heavens, but he was alive and more or less okay. You spread a blanket that wasn’t too important over the seat and helped Boba in. He was weak. You weren’t sure how long he’d been in there, exactly, no one seemed to have a clear idea of what had happened that day, or even on what  _ day  _ it was. 

Once you got home, you banished curious eyes and filled the reservoir so that Fett could use the ‘fresher to get clean. His skin was pretty irritated. You had some bantha milk salve, and you left it in a spot where he could find and use it if he wanted to. 

When he appeared in the kitchen, he was wearing your brother’s clothes that didn’t fit quite right, and his curls were wet, and he looked exactly like a normal man, like any other man in Mos Eisley. He could have been a moisture farmer, or some guy at the cantina, except for that set in his shoulders and that  _ look  _ on his stupid face. 

“So, what do I owe you?” he asked.

At first you were a little confused, but once you figured it out, you shook your head. “No, you don’t owe me anything.” 

“Everyone has a price.” 

“Well, not getting yourself thrown back in there would be a good start.” 

He snorted, and you directed him to sit at the small table. There were thumps and thuds upstairs as everyone listened in to your conversation. You rolled your eyes. 

“Sorry for the lack of privacy. They’re a little curious.” 

Boba sat at the table, spread-legged and scarred-eyebrow raised. “Where’s my armor?” 

“I put it in the lockbox,” you said, gesturing to a chest in the shadows of the house. “Code is 1-22-3. I just didn’t want it stinking up the place,” you said, trying to be reassuring. You really didn’t want to get on Boba Fett’s bad side by making him think you were stealing his armor. “You can get it whenever you want.” 

“I’m aware,” he said coolly. 

Of course he was. 

You filled a bowl with the extra portion of dinner you had made, a hot grain porridge and spiced eopie sauce, and set it in front of him, along with a glass of blue milk. He didn’t move, but you did, washing out the dishes and putting them aside to be packed on the hover tomorrow. You had lots of little chores to do, and you went about doing them. The living, breathing presence of him was a little unnerving, and you had to set yourself very firmly to finishing one thing before starting another. 

“You’re always busy,” he said. You heard the clink of spoon against bowl, and smiled to yourself. 

“Always something to do.” 

“Haven’t you found a man yet to do something?” 

You snorted. “Never change, you surly bastard.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” 

He cleaned his dish slowly, and drank the milk. “I hate to be a problem, but I could really use some water.” 

“Oh, of course.” 

You were starting to get a little too close to comfortable near Fett, and he could tell. Darkness had fully fallen, both suns gone down. The cool night air pooled in, and you were grateful for that much. You filled Fett’s cup with water, and handed it to him. He watched you carefully as he took it. He was as skittish as a loth-cat. 

“What is your name?” he asked. You told him, and he nodded, before downing the water in what you could have called an unwise amount of time. 

“Hey, take it easy,” you insisted. “You could make yourself sick--”

“I’m fine,” he said, setting the glass down. The air felt rather charged, suddenly. You must’ve pissed him off, which was fine by you. “You, on the other hand, haven’t told me what it was you wanted from me.” 

You opened a drawer, setting the utensils in it in a crate. 

“I don’t want anything from you, Fett. I wanted to help you out. I know you fancy rich boys don’t know much about being neighborly--”

Without you knowing it, he’d snuck up on you, and when you noticed his foot next to you, you stood up. He was very, very close to you. He really was pretty good at his job. 

“I fuck you one time and you want to be  _ neighborly? _ ”

“I’m a little confused, are you angry that I helped you? I can throw you back in if you want.” 

“You came to save my life. You  _ did _ save my life. Not sure what you know of honor, kid, but I don’t like leaving debts unpaid. Bad for business.”

You flushed. Oh. It was… like that. You hadn’t met many people with this kind of an honor code, and whatever his was, it made allowances for killing, and for being saved. 

“So what do I owe you? Someone you need dealt with? Money? What?” 

“You were almost out before I got there,” you said, putting your hand on your hip. “I don’t think that the boost I gave you counts.” 

“I’d been in the same spot for hours. I couldn’t move. I was exhausted. And I almost… I wouldn’t have made it much longer if you hadn’t shown up.”

A knot of dread tied itself in your stomach. You looked at Boba. His dark eyes were darker and heavily rimmed. He was exhausted. You could see it in the faint tremble left in his hands, the slump he hid well with the air of cocksure bravado, the tilt of his hips belying that his feet were killing him and he needed to rest at least one at a time. He shouldn’t have stood up. 

You lifted your hand. Hesitated. He watched you. He really was like a loth-cat, jumpy and easily startled. Reaching out, you touched his chest, gently steering him back to the table and chairs. 

“Are you injured anywhere else?” you asked as his legs hit the chair. 

He shook his head, sinking down to sit. “No. My skin is irritated, but other than that, I’m fine. Jetpack cushioned the fall.” 

You could almost feel his breath against you in the stillness. He reached out, grabbed your hips, pulled you hard against him. Your breath left you in a short, shocked huff. This was all calling back that encounter, the heat and fire of him smothering your anxiety, the wry grin he wore when he shot the door panel, the same one he wore now as he ran a careless finger down the front edge of your tunic, taking the closure in his hand. He held it firmly, like a reminder that if he just gave a little tug, you’d be bare to him. 

“Look,” you said, swallowing thickly. “If… if it means that much to you, we’re moving. You can help out. It’ll serve you right for your comments about needing a man around.” 

“Sure,” he said, his hand on the side of your neck. “If that’ll square us. Doesn’t seem like much, though. You don’t own hardly anything.” 

“That’ll square us, Fett,” you insisted.

“I’ll throw in a few credits. Housewarming gift,” he said. “Then I’ll feel right about it.” 

“S-sure,” you said, shrugging as if his careless, slow hands weren’t the most erotic thing you’d had since the last time you’d had him. 

“And if I were to fall into your bed--”

You jerked away, holding out your hands. He’d still been holding the tie of your tunic, and it came undone, but you backed straight into the countertop. Once you noticed it was open, you closed it again, blushing furiously. 

“No, no. That’s fine. The help will be enough. I am  _ not _ … the… that won’t be necessary. I aim to make this fair, Boba, I’m not one of those gangster types, and we don’t force people to do those sorts of things here, and--” you babbled, trying to tie your tunic closed again and finding that your hands suddenly couldn’t function. 

He was staring at you, genuinely surprised. 

“I wasn’t thinking of it like  _ that _ . I was thinking of it more as something fun on the side. Since I’m here. I had a good time with you. But if you’re so opposed…?” 

He was teasing you. 

“I am not opposed. I simply don’t want you to get the impression that you have to. That’s not what this was about. I saved you on account of I figure that’s just the right thing to do. Now. It’s getting late, and you’ve had a long few days, and I’m dead tired, so let’s find you somewhere to sleep,” you said, finally getting your tunic tied. 

“Your bed will do.” 

You turned to glare at him, and found him smiling wryly. You turned hot red, and huffed. “Fine. But you need to get some good sleep first. You look pale.” 

“That’s because all my blood’s somewhere else,” he said, grinning fiercely. He knew that would turn you red, and it did. 

What a bastard. 


End file.
